r if I forget about that
gambling?"

"I'll do the best I can, Mr. Farland."

"Then answer a few questions. Did you get a typewritten letter this
morning, with a wad of money in it?"

The barber's face turned white.

"Answer me!" Farland commanded.

"Yes, I--I got such a letter and I don't know what to make of it," the
barber said. "I've got the letter and money in my desk right now. There
wasn't any signature, and I didn't know where the letter came from, or
what it meant."

"Then why did you do what the letter told you to do?" Farland asked.

"I--I don't understand."

Farland motioned, and Murk now stepped around the corner.

"Know this man?" Farland demanded.

"I--I've seen him before."

"That letter told you to go to police headquarters, if requested to do
so, and deny you knew this man, didn't it? It told you not to help a man
named Sidney Prale, arrested for murder, to make his alibi by telling
that he was here with this man last night about eleven o'clock, didn't
it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And you did just what the letter told you?"

"I was afraid not to do it, sir. I didn't know where that letter came
from, you see."

"Had an idea it came from some boss, didn't you?"

"I didn't know and I didn't dare take a chance, Mr. Farland. You know
how it is?"

"I know how it is with a man who has busted a few laws and knows he
ought to be pinched!"

"Did I make some sort of a mistake, sir? What should I do now?"

"Something you don't do very often--tell the truth," Jim Farland
replied. "How about this man?"

"He came here with the other gentleman last night about eleven o'clock,
sir. He got a hair cut and a shave, and the other gentleman paid the
bill."

"Thanks. Sure about the time?"

"I know that it was almost a quarter after eleven when they left the
shop."

"Well, I'm glad you can speak the truth. Get on your hat and coat!"

"I--what do you mean, sir? Am I arrested?"

"No. Get that letter and come with me. I want you to tell the truth to
somebody else, that's all."

The frightened barber got his hat and coat and the letter, and followed
Jim Farland and Murk to the corner. There Farland engaged another
taxicab, and ordered the chauffeur to drive back to the little clothing
store.

"Running up a nice expense bill for Prale, but he won't care," Jim
Farland said to Murk.

He compelled the merchant to shut up his shop and get into the cab, and
then the chauffeur drove to police headquarter